


Dark Dreaming

by InkedConstellations



Series: 23 Emotions Challenge [8]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Allen's losing it, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort/Angst, Dreams and Nightmares, He's nice for once, Insanity, Link is kind of a paid stalker, M/M, Tsundere Kanda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 21:55:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5065804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkedConstellations/pseuds/InkedConstellations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Allen can't help but yearn for a time he doesn't remember, a time of peace, where he could simply lay his head back and sleep. He wishes the nightmares would go away so badly, sometimes he forgets about the dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [23emotions](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/23emotions) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
>  Anemoia (n.): nostalgia for a time you’ve never known
> 
> This turned out to be way longer than I thought it would.

There is a shadow in his reflection. It has no face, but it stares into his heart, eyes like drill bits. Allen feels like every time he looks in a mirror, he loses a little more of himself, is chipped down a little smaller. He is caving in on himself, his organs shriveling smaller and his shoulders hunching as he tries to hold up a smile. Of course, in reality he seems much the same. Maybe a little thinner, maybe with darker shadows beneath his eyes, but still the same person everyone in the Order has come to know. He has to keep up appearances, after all. At the first sign of insanity, the first sign that he was slipping, he'd be under lock and key and dead before he could say "I'm fine." It's hard enough being followed everywhere by Link. He doesn't want a cell--then he really would go crazy. Inside he feels hollow, raw. Like the shadow is reaching inside to scoop out his intestines and leave him bleeding out on the floor.

He never sleeps anymore. Every time he closes his eyes, Allen sees the Fourteenth, hears him whispering. And when it isn't the Noah in his head it's nightmares. Sickening images of him dying, of his friends being caught and tortured. Almost every night he listens to the snap of bones as Lenalee's legs are broken and the gargled screaming of Lavi as Road drives her candle spikes into his good eye and slices him open. Worst of all is when Kanda is in his nightmares, the stoic man refusing to scream even as Tyki slowly pulls him apart over and over

and over

and over

and _over--_

Most nights Allen is the one who wakes up screaming. He presses the heel of his palms to his eyes and swallows thickly, tries to breathe through the  _snap_ and the  _crunch_ and  _Oh god please make it stop I don't want to see this I don't want to hurt them **I could help you Allen** please god._ _  
_

He hyperventilates, breath coming quick and shallow and hard until Link sits up to ask if he's alright . He swallows his fear, shoves it deep inside to the pit of his stomach and nods, closing his eyes and turning his face away so Link cannot see the tears on his cheeks when he nods.

Allen imagines himself mummifying, skin wrinkling and pulling into itself as he crumbles apart. It's a bit morbid, he knows, but it's what he feels like. He feels himself being eroded, carved away and wishes he could just turn into dust. He wants to disappear. 

No, not disappear. He wants to have never existed in the first place.

Allen curls into a ball in his rare moments alone and dreams of a time he's never been in. One where Lenallee smiled happily with her brother and made picnics every weekend. One where Kanda wasn't so stiff and held Allen's hand as they walked in autumn, the world gold and bronze around them. A time when Lavi was nothing more than the class clown and Miranda knew how to be confident without fighting and Krory apologized for stepping on people's feet instead of being alive. One where the generals lived their own lives and Marie could make a living off his music.

And nobody knew what death was.

A time when they were happy.

He can picture it so clearly an ache forms in his chest, right beneath his heart. Allen closes his eyes and does not cry but wishes _Oh god I wish_ before he slips into nightmares again.

Allen looks into the mirror, and he doesn't recognize himself anymore. His white hair is dull, eyes hollow. The only bright spot is his scar, which seems to pulse and aches with every breath. Allen wonders if his smile still fools people into thinking he's okay. He attempts one, but his reflection looks pained instead of happy, teeth sharp and skin pulled tight, straining to contain empty joy.  _ **That'** **s** **pathetic.**_ The Fourteenth shakes his head and Allen sighs. He knows. It won't be much longer before shit hits the fan. Allen can feel it in his bones, the ache of something bad coming soon a different one from the ache he feels in his joints every morning, the pain making him stiff and slow. Sometimes he thinks his skeleton will pull apart, step out of him and waltz off like Mana's metal Akuma casing.

Then he laughs. Not for the first time, Link looks at Allen strangely, wondering at the touch of hysteria. That yearning for a happier time, a time when there wasn't any fighting but Allen could relax and get a full nights sleep for once, is the only thing that keeps him going now. It's like living on clouds--he eats and eats, the dream can't fill his stomach, so he keeps on starving.

Allen wanders the library, locked in since Link is doing paperwork. he's always doing paperwork, when he's not watching Allen 'sleep' or poking his nose into every breath Allen takes. Allen's gotten used to it. And at east paperwork means he has a little bit of freedom, that he can wander the stacks of books and let himself go. He doesn't have to smile when nobody's watching. He sighs and lets himself relax, feels his face become older as stress lines show themselves and the circles beneath his eyes soften into bags, purple and puffy. If he didn't already have white hair, Allen chuckles wryly, he'd be going prematurely gray. _**Need some help, Allen?  Why not let me take control for a while?**_ The Fourteenth talks to him all the time now, even without mirrors. Allen feels like in some twisted way, the Fourteenth has become his friend. Albeit a psychotic megalomaniac friend waiting to take over Allen's body at the first slip-up, who didn't actually care how Allen was feeling. ** _  
_**

There are footsteps coming closer and suddenly Allen finds himself looking up at Kanda, eternal frown directed at the white-haired boy as Allen tries desperately to fix his face, struggles to stuff his fears and his nightmares and his sleepless state beneath the mask again. Allen offers an abysmal approximation of a smile and knows Kanda has seen everything.

But instead of the light-hearted mocking he expects from the swordsman, Kanda just sighs and shakes his head, offering Allen a hand.

Allen stares at it for a moment as he tries to process what Kanda wants him to do, but Kanda doesn't wait for him to figure it out. With another sigh and a roll of his eyes, the swordsman leans down and grabs Allen's arm, heaving him up so he has no choice but to stand up-right, leaning on Kanda's arm a bit for support.

"What the hell are you thinking, Beansprout, letting yourself get run-down like this? Are you fucking suicidal? Or just fucking stupid? I knew you were an idiot, here's just proof." The words are sharp, but Kanda's voice is soft and quiet. It's completely unlike the harsh, barking sound Allen usually associates with him, and it's confusing. Even when they recognized their friendship, saved each other's lives, stared to care for one another, Kanda was gruff. He looked away before telling Allen to eat or rest well or not catch cold, because obviously if he fell apart Kanda wouldn't be able to hit him for being stupid. Allen looks up at Kanda, eyes slightly unfocused, but manages to pull a frown. 

"I'm not stupid," but his protest is weak, just as quiet as Kanda's voice. "I'm smarter than you, BaKanda."

The swordsman looks down at Allen and raises an eyebrow, and Allen hears the Fourteenth again in his ear, laughing.  _ **That was awful. Try again later.**_  The sound grates on the inside of his skull. Kanda sighs once more, dragging Allen from the stacks until they reach a small couch. Allen can see Link if he strains, turns his head around a table. Link probably can't see him though, and Allen is so preoccupied by what this implies that he's surprised when Kanda deposits him on the couch and sits himself.

He stares when Kanda looks away, resting his chin on his fist, and pats his knee. "Lay down." Allen blinks, surprise written across his face, and Kanda makes an irritated sound in the back of his throat. Glaring at Allen  _Ah, that's more like what he knew_ Kanda reached out and grabbed Allen's shoulder, pulling him down so his legs were curled beneath him, head resting on Kanda's lap.

"W-what...?" Allen stutters, voice cracking, and Kanda's glare intensifies before he turns away.

Allen can see the faintest tint of color on Kanda's ears as he answers. "Shut up, Beansprout. It doesn't mean anything. Just get some sleep already and fucking pull yourself together." He voice grows a bit softer, and Kanda glances at Allen. "Besides, it's boring sparring without you." He grins, that sly, wide curve of his lips Allen secretly loves. "No one else lets me beat them up."

Allen scowls, raising one fist to lightly punch at Kanda's arm, but when he closes his eyes they're both smiling. The ache in his chest is gone, the Fourteenth quietly grumbling somewhere far away.

After a few light breaths to calm himself,

Allen dreams.


End file.
